Page 78 of Dance with the Devil

Good luck, babe.

Forever?

I’m going to hold him to it.

EPILOGUE

CROSS

THREE MONTHS LATER

Iknock on the door to Genevieve’s private studio. “Butterfly? You ready for me yet?”

She lowers the music so that I can hear her call out, “Almost. I’m just getting my new costume on. Then I’ll show you the piece I plan on auditioning with tomorrow.”

Leaning with my shoulder against the wood, I smile. “You don’t have to get dressed up for me for that. You know I love you in anything. Especially when I get to watch you dance.”

“Who are you kidding, Cross? You love me innothingbest.”

“Mm,” I agree. “And that’s because, when you’re gloriously naked, I get to see just who you belong to.”

Genevieve laughs. “That’s on you, babe. You told me not to get a tattoo that represents someone until you’re sure they’re a permanent fixture in your life. You covered your whole damn heart with a butterfly for me. You knew I had to one-up you.” Fabric rustles, and I can only imagine the delicious leotard that’swrapping its way up Genevieve’s delectable body. “And I did, didn’t I?”

“Your cross is barely two inches tall,” I remind her.

She squealed the entire time, too, gripping the armrests so tightly as I tattooed her, she left fingernail dips in the leather. It wasn’t from pain, though, but because her tat is in an area very sensitive to vibrations. I refused to hurt her, and if I overdid it with the numbing cream, that was because I wanted her first experience with my needle to replace the questionable memories of her first time with my cock.

Genevieve is a fucking angel. She knows how much I still struggle with the aftermath of our time being held by Winter, and it’s so much worse that that sick fuck seems to have fallen off the face of the planet. Not even Tanner can find him, and if the Sinner’s tech expert hasn’t found any sign of Johnny Winter since our rescue, there’s a good chance another one of his victims caught up to him before we did.

And if I try to convince myself of that so that I don’t pull a Damien and lock Genevieve up in our new home in the hopes that no one can ever get to her again, that works, too.

I refuse to see my butterfly caged again. She deserves to be free, and I’m glad she’s not worried about Winter and his goons coming after her. She shouldn’t be. Between her brother and me, anyone who puts her in their sights will end up in a shallow grave, and that’s if they’re lucky…

“So?” she retorts. “It might not be as elaborate as some of your tattoos, but isn’t it the placement that counts?”

“You’re right,” I agree. “And that’s why I have your butterfly covering my heart.”

Genevieve snorts. “Big deal. I let you tattoo a cross on my pussy.”

I laugh. Something about Genevieve’s blunt way of getting straight to the point… I fucking love it.

Almost as much as I loveher.

“Okay. You win.” I rap my knuckles against the wood, then push away from the door. “Ready now?”

“Five minutes. I just want to stretch a little first, make sure I’m loose and limber before I show you the piece.”

“I can help you out with that,” I offer, meaning every word.

I think about just how flexible my butterfly is, and how she let me massage her last night in particular after another long training session in her studio. I don’t know what I enjoyed more: the feel of her soft skin under my calloused, rough hands, the gentle moans that escaped her when I rubbed out a particularly tense muscle on her back or her calf, or how she was so relaxed by the time I was done, she just laid there as I buried my face in her pussy, capping off her pleasure with an orgasm that had her yanking my hair and screaming.

Good thing our new home is far enough away from our neighbors. Genevieve’s screams belong to me, and only if it’s when she’s coming all over me…

Too bad she doesn’t take me up on my offer now. She warned me when we were first talking that while art is my life, dance is hers. After she missed that audition while we were being held captive, part of Genevieve died; when she was forced to shoot Noah, so did another part. I can’t bring her back to the woman she was before she pulled the trigger.

But ballet? She wasn’t ready to move on from it. I knew that, even when I was torturing myself by staying away. Damien knew it, too. That’s why, when her controlling older brother ceded the tiniest bit of it by picking out a house that would work for both my needs and Genevieve’s, he made sure there was a front room to serve as my sterilized tattoo parlor, a back room that was a duplicate of Genevieve’s dance studio at her brother’s home, and an upstairs where we can build out life together.

Just like how I’ve been scouring the internet for local dance companies that were accepting new dancers, or performing centers hosting auditions for upcoming ballets.

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